


Counting Up the Years

by elizzychan



Series: Mystic Messenger Alternative Universes [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Diary/Journal, Gen, Heavy Angst, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 08:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13360125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizzychan/pseuds/elizzychan
Summary: I hope Saeyoung was okay. He told me that I should be strong when he returns. He kept me a promise… he will return. But now, why won’t he?A supplemental story to "If".





	Counting Up the Years

_**Alone.**_

 

                A word that I’ve come to know when my brother brought home that picture book to tell the story of the Ice Cream Kingdom. It is a fairytale that says any wish can come true. A fairytale that I wish can set me free from the rope that is tightly knotted from the hardwood chair. A fairytale that I hope can make my mommy be good again. A fairytale that _I long_ to make the pain inside me go away, except now, I _can’t_ feel anything anymore. My stomach stopped growling for food hours ago. My skin is swollen with purple and bluish marks, some were covered with either still fresh or dried blood. My clothes are tattered, unchanged, and discolored with dirt and different stains. My limbs feel numb from the number of times mommy hit me with the wooden block she left on top of the coffee table next to the sofa where she sleeps. I can’t instruct my body to move properly. My arms quiver uncontrollably whenever I adjust them to reach the long-forgotten fish bread my mommy kicked under one of the cabinets. The resident mouse seems to be getting his share of the goods for his family as the tail part of the fish bread is now crumbled into small parts. It is just like any other day, except this is the worse of the worst. It is like life itself left my body… lying on the cold tiled floor.

 

                My body is always weak and now it is limp. I am currently curled up in a fetal position facing away from the broken window, helplessly trying to protect myself from the raging storm outside.  Droplets of the rain wet the back of my shirt. It is not easing up the fever I have two days ago. But it’s okay. I’ll be strong. I’ll try to be positive, just like Saeyoung. I can get through it… all of it. He promised that we will leave this hellhole. Then, I can have my wish to watch the ever-changing clouds while laying down on the vast fields when I’m adult. It is my greatest dream to be outside without anyone who is lurking at the corner of my eye that will hunt us into a trap and wipe us out in the face of the Earth.

 

                My throat is aching from dryness. My lips are breaking from lack of moisture. I think I’m going to die of dehydration. My crying did not help me preserve the remaining liquid inside my body. I know I didn’t stop. It is just that I already exhaust my eyes that no more tears would come out. At least the clouds were there, sympathizing on what should I feel. I wish mommy would refill the water bowl next to me. I placed it near the broken glass to harvest water that happens to drip from the ceiling and the stray droplets from outside. Yet, it isn’t enough to make a chug out of it.

 

                The shattered pieces from the window near my feet slightly cut my toes were the new addition to the collection my mommy was fond of creating whenever she just explodes. But this time, she had thrown her wooden block from her hysterics just hours ago when Saeyoung still hasn’t returned from the errand she demanded him five days ago. She worries about her alcohol that she hasn’t tasted in days while she forgets about her son, my brother, who could be hurt anywhere or worse, maybe dead. I fear that my father finally kidnaps him. And still, I am more afraid of the gnawing thought creeps into my mind that he finally decides to leave the weakling behind… to leave me. **No**. He will not do that. He can’t do that! He promises. He will come back and we will escape from here. He’s always the strong one, the capable one. But I will not lose my hope of him coming home. It doesn’t matter to me if I am always the one who is beaten up. Just him here would be enough for me. Even though mommy would go crazy again, as long he’s here and I can sense his presence, I feel like tomorrow is full of hope and that there is a beautiful future that awaits us. He promises and I still and always believe he would return, maybe not today but tomorrow or the day after that.

 

                I continually fight my dry eyes from blinking severally to moisturize them and to wait by the door. Maybe he is sleeping in the church and just waiting for the storm to pass. He might be cheery on the outside and a bit weird with his obsession with going to outer space sometimes, but he is as pessimistic as he let on the inside. He might be scared out there. I miss him. I miss his stories of interactions outside. I miss his little surprises he brought from the girl he meets in the church, his eyes were always gleaming fondly that I never thought I would witness such thing. I can't explain that feeling whenever I see him with that face but it makes me vulnerable and weak but at the same time secured and assured that everything will be fine. I miss the endless repetition of his promises to me as if he tries to bore it into my brain. I don’t want to forget those. For him to make those vows makes me a bit at ease that soon… it can be a reality.

 

                Part of me wishes that he is again locked up inside one of the large cabinets, whispering reassurances until I slumber. Is it too selfish of me to hope for that? Maybe I need to try harder. I’ll try not to be jealous of his daily wanderings to the church. I’ll try not to cry to the beatings my mommy gives me. I just want him to come back, to curl up beside me, to talk about his adventures. Just please, let him be safe. Let him return alive and well. To the God, he always prays to at night please, bring my brother back. _I don’t want to be alone anymore._

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for the angst!


End file.
